Breathe With Me Forever
by Jeanie205
Summary: "You still have hope?" Clarke wants to know, and Bellamy answers "We're still breathing." But where did that question and answer come from, and what happens next? Based on that scene from the trailer that we'd all love to know more about. Maybe it happened just like this.


He hates this.

He hates the burning water that falls from the sky to torture the unwary, and the slow decimation of their food stores despite the strictest rationing. He hates the unexpected claustrophobia of being once again confined to the Ark structure after months of roaming freely in the open air.

And until a few minutes ago, Bellamy would have said that the thing he hated the most was his feeling of helplessness. The inability to engage in some activity - however misguided, however ultimately counterproductive - to try to mitigate the situation. Because this was a problem that couldn't be solved with a gun, or an inside man, or even an attack plan. And that's all he knows. All he's good at.

So, yeah, that had been his greatest frustration, until the moment he found Clarke sitting at her makeshift desk, more distraught than he'd ever seen her. And now the thing that Bellamy hates the most is the look of despair on her face. Every other concern has faded into the background.

"What is it?" he asks, wondering what fresh piece of bad news he's missed.

Clarke shakes her head. "Which failure do you want to hear about first?"

"Clarke..."

"No, really, Bellamy. Do you want to hear how we can't seem to get the grounders to help because the Trikru and the Azgeda are more intent on having a war than worrying that the planet is going to kill them all anyway? Or that no matter how hard we try we can't figure out how to reverse the meltdown of even one power plant?"

"I'm sure Raven's working on it..."

Her face crumples and he sees the tears gather in her eyes.

"Or that I finally had to drag Raven out of the computer room, because she _still_ won't stop working even though the headaches have gotten so much worse?"

Bellamy thinks it's this last part that must be the cause of Clarke's current black mood. He's heard the rest before. But Raven...

"Is she okay? Isn't there anything Abby can do?"

Clarke shrugs. "Mom keeps telling her she needs to sleep. But you know Raven."

He does indeed. He knows her obstinacy and her pride. That damned AI had fucked with her brain, enhanced it somehow, made her even more brilliant. Even so, she wasn't some fucking superhero. That brain, and the body it was attached to, still needed to rest.

It occurs to him that maybe it would help if he talked to Raven. Maybe _that's_ something he can do, how he can help. He'll ask Clarke...

"I shouldn't have interfered, Bellamy," she says then, crestfallen, before he can open his mouth. "I should have just left everyone in the City of Light. They wouldn't have had to worry about the radiation, they could have lived forever just like ALIE said..."

"Clarke, no!" Bellamy interrupts before she can get really wound up. Convince herself that this is somehow her fault. Because this is something - and it's maybe the _only_ thing - that he's sure about.

"That wouldn't have been living. The City of Light was only a mirage, a...a kind of _existence_ that only something with circuit boards in place of a brain and a heart could ever think was a real alternative to being alive. You did the right thing. No matter what happens, no matter how it turns out, you did the right thing."

She's silent then, but a moment later he hears her sigh.

"No matter how it turns out? We _know_ how it's going to turn out."

"No. We don't." What Bellamy _does_ know is that life takes some strange twists and turns. And that there's always the chance things will get better. Turn out well.

"You still have hope?" she asks, her voice small.

"We're still breathing," he shrugs.

It's an old mantra. One he'd recited often back on the Ark when everything seemed hopeless. When he wondered every damn day what kind of life Octavia could ever possibly have, hidden underneath that floor. And later, when she was in the Skybox, if she'd even have a life at all.

So as long as they're still alive, as long as they still have breath in their bodies, he's damned if he'll give up.

He isn't sure Clarke believes him, though, and he aches to give her more reassurance. Something to hang onto.

Bellamy rarely lets himself indulge in touching Clarke, especially lately. Because when he does, it feels too damn good. And he knows it isn't like that with them. But he thinks that tonight she needs more than words, and with scarcely a thought he reaches out to gently squeeze her shoulder.

He isn't surprised when her left hand moves across her body, when she folds that hand to cover his own. It isn't the first time that in a moment of terror she's found comfort in the touch of his hand. And that comfort has always been mutual. So Bellamy isn't shocked at either the pleasure he feels at the soft caress of her palm, or the rush of quiet contentment that follows.

But he's more than surprised when she turns her head, when she bends down to cover their hands with her soft cheek. When her eyes slide closed and she gently nuzzles the side of her face against their clasped hands.

Suddenly, he can hardly breathe.

And when she turns her head just the tiniest bit more and places a gentle kiss on the back of his hand, everything else fades from his mind. Only this moment exists.

"Clarke..." He chokes out her name, but he can't seem to come up with a single other word.

Her head shifts again, and she's gazing up at him as he stands there leaning over her. Her eyes are open now, but he's never seen that look before. Without a single conscious thought, Bellamy is suddenly crouched down, eye-level with Clarke, mere inches between them.

"Bellamy." She whispers it so quietly that he's not sure if he actually hears his name or if he's just reading it on her lips.

She reaches up to stroke his cheek, her fingers leaving a tingling trail, and suddenly Bellamy is awash in sensation. Clarke's eyes search his face, and he isn't sure what she's looking for, but he's desperately hoping she finds it. When she leans forward to close the space between them, he finds he can't look away. His eyes drift shut as her lips brush softly against his own.

And then the hesitance is gone, and their hands unclasp. Arms are flung around shoulders, and the kiss becomes real and warm and solid. Soon their heads are twisting and turning, as their mouths open, tongues probing, seeking ever greater intimacy.

Bellamy is overwhelmed with emotion and desire. Desperate for it to never, ever stop. He wants her closer, he wants to be inside her, he wants her forever...

 _Oh, god._ He pulls away abruptly, his body immediately aware of the loss of her warmth. Clarke looks shaken, and he's not surprised. _How the hell could he have let this happen?_

With all the obstacles in front of them, with everything they need to do to come out on the other side, he knows damn well they can't let this, let all these... _feelings_ , get in the way. Because it would be too damn easy - and oh, god, now he knows just exactly _how_ easy - to get lost in the joy of just being together and to forget about everything else.

But he wants more than just a few months. Or a few weeks. He wants a lifetime. And if they have to step back now to take care of more pressing needs...

He's crossed the room by now, and when he turns back to Clarke, she looks stricken.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I-I don't know why I did that. I won't...I won't let it happen again."

 _Shit!_

Bellamy is back across that tiny room in a flash, kneeling in front of her, grabbing at hands that Clarke is suddenly reluctant to extend.

"Don't be sorry! I don't want you to be sorry. I want this as much as you do. Maybe more."

Her face clears a bit, confusion replacing mortification

"I don't...I don't think I understand." Her voice is tentative.

Bellamy's thumbs brush across her wrists, soothing away, he hopes, any feelings of embarrassment that he might have brought on with his stupidity.

"We just need to survive this, Clarke," Bellamy explains, his voice earnest, and he focuses his entire being on making her see. Making her understand. "This problem we have to solve is so enormous that I don't want either of us to be distracted by...anything."

Bellamy lifts his hand to stroke across her cheek. "And nothing could ever be a greater distraction for me than you. I could die happily just from kissing you. But I don't want to die. And I don't want you to die, either."

There's a sudden glint in her eye and her lips curve into the smallest of smiles.

"So the kissing wasn't...terrible?"

Bellamy groans, laughing. And he can't resist leaning forward for one more quick kiss and a warm, reassuring hug.

"I intend to spend years kissing you," he says, pulling back, smiling into her eyes. "Kissing you and touching you, and growing old with you. Just as soon as we figure out how to get past all the crap that this fucking planet keeps throwing at us. And we're gonna do this, I know we are. But until that happens, we just have to try to remember..."

"Yeah, I know," she says, grabbing his hand and returning his smile with a quiet one of her own. "We're still breathing."


End file.
